


It could be my last

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crush at First Sight, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Smoking, Yakuza, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: This drabble was inspired byLand this: "Hanzo visits Jesse in the locker room before some important fight".So this is it, Hanzo and Jesse meeting for the first time, right before a fight and in a gloomy locker room.





	It could be my last

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [L's blog](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/351099) by Lili. 



> English is not my mother tongue.  
> I apologize in advance for my mistakes.

**Hanzo Shimada**

The locker room smelled of blood and fear, and the smoke of the boxer’s cigarette danced in front of his face like a concealing veil. His presence there was unusual, he was Shimada Hanzo and his expensive shoes were not the ones to step in such places. But his brother had insisted -too much- that he _had_ to meet the star of the night right before the fight. The boxer that would win the infamous death match and report huge benefits to the family.

Handpicked by Genji himself.

And Hanzo was taken aback by him. He had fought against his better instincts trying to repress a smug smile when he had entered the locker room. Jesse McCree was everything he despised and loved in a man: disheveled hair, perilous eyes, powerfully built frame, and a terrible, dangerous, charming, southern, loving smile.

So he had stayed to steal some more moments with the man who, until now, had only said a “howdy” to him. Again, with that smug, suggestive grin.

“Isn’t it unorthodox to smoke before a fight, Mr. McCree?”

“It could be my last,” McCree said, glancing up at him.

The cowboy was sitting on a bench in front of him while he stood with a hand in his left pocket. He was tempting. So tempting. It brought ideas in his head he had forgotten long ago. Forbidden pleasures. Enticing needs.

“Can I have a drag?” Hanzo asked with a smirk. He was not the one to ask for things. Shimada Hanzo took what he wanted whenever he wanted. But right now, he couldn’t take what he wanted.

McCree handed him the cigarette and stood up. His eyes met his gaze while Hanzo put the smoke in his mouth, a little too slow. He was rusty. It had been too long. Hanzo tasted the cowboy on it, or maybe it was just his imagination, his filthy imagination wondering how he would really taste in his mouth. And McCree was looking at him. That smile. That wicked, evil smile, that delirious void drowning him by the second.

His whiskey-colored eyes glittered along with his smile as though he was thinking about something raunchy while looking at him. Or maybe it was just his imagination, a middle-aged man’s imagination that hadn’t had a decent fuck in years. Hanzo handed him back the cig and watched the other man taking one last drag as the ashes lightened up his lips for a brief moment. Still smiling. Like he will not face a life-threatening fight tonight. As though he didn’t care.

“How ‘bout a kiss for good luck?” McCree finally said, tossing the cig on the floor with a flick of his thumb.

Hanzo swallowed, cursing something in his mind at the sudden racing heart and the sweaty hands. He was not the one to do such things. Shimada Hanzo was not the one to fall under someone else’s will so freely.

“Why?” is the only word that left his lips, more like a gasp, a faint-hearted gasp of air in case it was just a joke. An evil joke that would break his not-so-cold heart.

“It could be my last, ya’ know,” McCree said.

Hanzo swore he saw him take a peek at his lips. His parted lips screaming to crush his, waiting to be unleashed to fulfill his petition like an obedient lover.

“And you want me to be your last?” Hanzo said, forcing his mind to work despite the thumping heart hammering his chest and his groin. Then, the cowboy closed the distance between them. They were alone. No one would see. No one would know but them.

“Now that’d be a lucky break, sweetheart,” McCree’s smug grin widened at his words.

His warm breath smelled of tobacco, and the vein on his neck was pounding. Too close. He was a temptation. One you don’t let slip away, one you embrace, you eat, you devour until there is nothing left to feast on.

And so did Hanzo.

His starving lips collided into his smile, and Hanzo lost himself, he gave up his own being in the kiss, licking and biting like the hungry man he was. And he kissed him back, the cowboy assailed his mouth with a lascivious tongue that spoke the language of love like a master. And it told Hanzo things he had never tasted before.

McCree had a handful of his hair tightly folded. Black locks spotted with silver that ensured their union until the cowboy saw fit. Until Hanzo couldn’t breathe anymore and moaned into his mouth like a maiden would into her first lover’s arms.

“I ain’t want it to be the last, darlin’,” McCree whispered into his mouth. Satisfied. Eager.

“Win,” Hanzo ordered.

 

 

**Jesse McCree**

The locker room stank of blood and sweat, his own smoke stuffing the room and forming a barrier between him and the man standing. Why he was there, it was a mystery to him. He was Hanzo Shimada nonetheless, and he was not the man to stand in a dirty room with a low shit like Jesse McCree.

Genji had told him about his brother when he recruited him to fight. _To the death_. Those were his words, rich and heavy as much as the gold he would collect after. If he survived.

But again, the man in front of him was so distracting he barely lifted his eyes from the floor, smoking relentlessly his cigarette and picturing him again in his mind: his black hair, matching void eyes and that presence feline and dangerous. He couldn’t repress a smirk when he had seen him entering the locker room. What a tantalizing view Hanzo Shimada was, wearing that expensive suit so comfortably that made him feel even more naked than he was.

A stupid howdy had left his grinning lips and then the silence. You do not want to disrespect Hanzo Shimada and yet; he had said howdy. But what can you say to that sharp face and brisk eyes? And that smile. That unrepressed smug that welcomed him. So tempting.

“Isn’t it unorthodox to smoke before a fight, Mr. McCree?” Hanzo broke the silence.

 _Does he speak, or does he sing?_ Because the sound of his voice melted into his ears and had to make him rummage in his mind to find the words. And Jesse was usually a smartass.

“It could be my last,” McCree said, glancing up at him.

What a sinful sight he was, standing in front of him, so close and at the same time so out of his reach it was painful. His mind wandered around the many things he wanted to do to this man. None of them good. None of them bad enough.

“Can I have a drag?”

 _You can have my soul with it too, I ain’t gonna complain_.

Jesse handed him the cigarette and stood up, looking at Hanzo as he parted his kissable lips to rest the filter on them and suck, so subtly, but so there. He wanted to be the smoke in his throat, swallowed by the filthiness of his mouth. Jesse had a wolfish grin on his face and he did nothing to hide it. He might die tonight. He might die in a happy fantasy involving Hanzo Shimada.

His movements, so sleek and well-thought, mesmerizing, beautiful, and for a moment there, rakish, as though he wanted more than a drag from him. And Jesse was willing to give anything that man needed. Anything. And more.

He didn’t even care about the fight when he was fighting right here and right now to not fall for this gorgeous creature that had just appeared in his life unannounced.

_I might die tonight. How inappropriate._

And if there was a chance he would die tonight, he had nothing to lose now.

“How ‘bout a kiss for good luck?” McCree finally said, tossing the cig on the floor with a flick of his thumb, trying to mask his trembling hand. He watched Hanzo’s beautiful neck tighten as he gulped.

_Yes._

“Why?”

“It could be my last, ya’ know,” McCree said.

McCree took a peek at his lips, framed by a perfectly trimmed goatee. Those ravishing pink lips, kissed less than they should’ve. They deserved to be kissed hard, preferably by someone who knew how to. And Jesse knew how all too well.

“And you want me to be your last?” Hanzo said.

 _Yes. My last kiss, my last fuck, my last everything, darlin’_ , Jesse thought, closing the distance between them.

“Now that’d be a lucky break, sweetheart,” he said, grinning at his cowardice as much as at the undone man in front of him. His eyes revealed more than Hanzo would’ve wanted but Jesse was there to read his needs. And to fulfill them.

Hanzo was even more beautiful this close as a tender blush grew on his cheeks. He smelled expensive, and he wanted to smear that luxurious scent with his tang until the only thing you could smell on that man was him.

Then Hanzo’s mouth crashed into his smile, and all he wanted was to smile even wider at those enticing lips brushing his skin while that tongue, wet and warm, suggested the pleasures it would inflict in other places. And, oh, how Jesse wanted that sinful mouth in other places. He grabbed a handful of his onyx silvery hair to forbid him from slipping away so easily, as he thrust his tongue inside his mouth, tasting the man, relishing in him and stealing the oh-so-longed-for moan he was looking for. And all he wanted now was to make him whine, and moan, and ask for more. For more of him. But the fight.

“I ain’t want it to be the last, darlin’,” he whispered into his panting mouth, eager for more.

“Win,” Hanzo ordered.


End file.
